


Stay While It Heals

by writhedbeneath



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: kradamadness, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writhedbeneath/pseuds/writhedbeneath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in random places, whenever, wherever they can.  Out of the way places, in the middle of nowhere, sometimes for just a day, or a few hours. They live for these moments, the in between spaces in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay While It Heals

They meet in Missouri, at the only rest stop off Highway 191, in between one-stoplight towns. Adam has a real beard, it only took him three days to grow and Kris is immediately jealous. His mouth twists into a slight smile at Adam’s cowboy hat, a Stetson, also the real deal. Kris is wearing a ridiculous fake mustache and a hunting hat, vest, the whole works. He’s even got a rifle in his truck.

Kris mocks Adam’s attempt at a southern accent, then makes him laugh teaching him how to pronounce it. “It’s Mo-zaww-rah,” he drawls. “Getter right.”

Adam checks them into the motel, a dive just off the highway. They discuss it in the car first, who is more likely to be recognized here. Kris is stubbornly proud of his disguise, but in the end he gives in to Adam’s logic. They’re in God’s country, and Kris was the one with a single that got some play on country radio in the last month. Even without a disguise, the likelihood of anyone recognizing Adam here would be slim.

The room is old and musty, but they barely notice anything other than the bed. Kris is fidgety throughout, Adams hands on his lower back barely able to hold him down. Nothing is _enough_ he keeps asking for more, harder, his feet roaming up and down the backs of Adam’s calves, distracting, until Adam grabs his legs and swings them up onto his shoulders, Kris’s head knocking into the headboard as he thrusts hard, deep, until Kris moves only with him.

Afterward, Kris is a puddle in the middle of the bed, bliss written on his face, half asleep before Adam even collapses on top of him. Without opening his eyes, he mumbles “you keep that hat for next time okay?” And Adam can’t help but grin.

**********************************************  
It amazes Adam, when people think or even expect him to be with anyone else. Even the people who know, they sometimes question it, whether he ever takes anyone up on their offers, just to pass the time.

Pretty boys with vacant eyes, unknown actors looking for a little attention, trashy reality show stars with tight bodies and wicked mouths, always around and making it clear they’re available. But it’s like he can't see them, looking through them with disinterested eyes. They are all bland, Hollywood perfect, Hollywood fake.

He longs for a Southern twang and smooth tan skin, pale in places only he gets to see. He finds strangers in a club rubbing up against him irritating, but just the thought of Kris’s breathing next to him, deep in sleep, gives him a hard-on.

He doesn’t bother denying it anymore, how deep he’s in, how completely he’s lost control. All the things he never knew he wanted, the things he once scoffed at, he misses more than anything now. He wants to do cheesy romantic things, he wants to hold hands in the park and go for horse drawn carriage rides. He wants sweet kisses on the cheek, not making out against the wall of a club. He craves those unreasonably long strong fingers, he imagines nights spent learning about football, for fucks sake.

How could anyone think he'd risk it for a quick fuck? He craves Kris, like a hunger deep in his bones, but even if he didn't have him, he could never go back to the emptiness of sex with a stranger. He's changed, more than he likes to admit, but this part, faithfulness he supposes it should be called, doesn't take any effort.

And even now, he gets that twinge of amazement, of pure joy, when he thinks _He’s mine, Kris is mine._ Almost, he remembers to correct himself. Almost mine.

******************************************  
They meet in New Hampshire, in the dead of winter. Their room looks out onto a lake, frozen and still under a blaring sun, the trees all around bare and grim. Kris makes sure Adam is wearing two layers under his down coat, and a thick black hat, standing on tiptoes to pull it down over Adam’s ears.

“My California boy,” he says sweetly as Adam leans down for a kiss. “We won’t stay out there that long, I swear.”

The grounds are deserted, everyone hiding from the blistering wind in front of cozy fires and under thick down comforters. They wear black ski masks, as much to hide their faces from the cold as from the rare passerby. Adam wants to pull Kris inside his jacket, zip it up around them both, and kiss him under the sunlight. But he settles for this, walking hand in hand near the half frozen lake, looking up at the bright sun, and seeing Kris’s eyes crinkle with a smile.

They undress quickly back in their room, laughing as they pull off shoes and socks wet from the snow, like it’s a race to see who can get naked the quickest. The spa shower has a picture window, and Adam pushes Kris gently, gently up against it, leaning around to palm his cock until he’s hard, begging for it. He whispers dirty words, all the things he wants to do to him, as he slips inside slowly, like he has all the time in the world. Kris is moaning, pushing back against him, as Adam continues his litany of filthy promises. Suddenly Kris turns his head, bites down hard on Adam’s lip, and Adam is coming faster than he realizes, thrusting hard, without control, when he didn’t even realize he was close. He turns Kris around and kisses him roughly, his already tender lips bruising against Kris’s teeth when Kris’s mouth opens into a wide smile. Just a reminder of how much he is under Kris’s control, as if he didn’t already know.

“Little shit,” he mutters, kneeling down, teasing Kris with his lips and tongue, until that smile is gone, replaced with a moan, hands grabbing at his hair.

*****************************  
He goes to industry parties, and makes the rounds. He plays the game, making small talk with all the right people, feigning interest in the climbers, posing with the latest It Girls and Boys. Every once in a while he’ll wrap a possessive palm around a young boy’s neck, or lean down to whisper in an ear, and waits for the tabloids to proclaim them the hot new couple. Half the time he doesn’t even know their name, hasn’t even met them before his press agent steers him in their direction. It keeps people from asking all the right questions, the ones he can’t answer.

He poses for the cameras, but his smile never meets his eyes. No one knows, they could never guess that he’s not living the dream, that he’s only half there, half-miserable.

How could they, when they’ve never seen him when he’s truly happy? Those moments aren’t for public consumption.

***********************************  
They meet in Texas, in the middle of a heat wave. Or maybe Texas is always like that, Adam thinks. Either way, the only thing Adam wants to do is lie in bed, under the covers in a room made freezing by the wonder of air condition.

But Kris wants ribs.

Red meat has been on Adam’s personal no-fly list for over a decade, with the occasional exception for a cheeseburger (doesn’t count if it’s in between bread, Adam reasons). But Kris is adamant.

“You can’t come to Texas and not have barbecued ribs,” he insists.

No amount of begging or protesting, not even threats will dissuade him. Adam eventually gives in, and suggests they pick something up and have a picnic in their room. Kris looks disappointed, but he easily agrees, knowing even in this sleepy town, sitting down at a restaurant together is too risky.

It is what it is, and Adam refuses to let it ruin whatever brief time they have together.

Later, in the Jacuzzi bathtub (he makes a mental note to send Lane flowers for finding a kick-ass hotel in the middle of Nowhere, TX) he wraps his legs around Kris, whose head is resting against his chest, almost dozing, completely spent from an afternoon of making love. He kisses his ears, turns his face to kiss his nose, his neck, that spot on his jaw that drives Kris wild.

It’s never enough. He keeps waiting for it to die down, this intense need, keeps waiting to lose interest, but every time he just wants him more.

**********************************  
He lives in those moments, in the in-between spaces, holding onto them like tangible souvenirs. The time he asked Kris when he knew—he can’t remember where they were, what town, or even what season it was. He can’t remember if they were in a hotel with floor to ceiling windows, or a cabin in the woods. But he can remember every word Kris said as he lay on top of Adam, the weight of him grounding, solid, as they were dozing off in the mid-afternoon sun.

“When we first met,” Kris begins “it was like…you were unreal. Almost blinding. I didn’t understand how everyone in the room wasn’t just staring at you. I sure couldn’t stop. It was like…like you had champagne flowing through your veins, you were just so much more alive than everyone else.”

“Even if I didn’t know then, what it was…I knew I wanted to be around you, all the time. I wanted that in my life. I never stood a chance,” he finishes with a smile, leaning up to kiss Adam softly.

And there are the times Kris talks about the future, like it's more than just a possibility, like there's this specific space in time where they are together already, and Kris can't wait for them to arrive there.

“I think we should get another puppy," Kris had said "So Zorro isn’t alone all day. He’ll get lonely you know?” And he said it with such earnest innocence that Adam plays along, talks about his love of Huskies, bites down hard against the questions and doubts thundering in his head.

Those throwaway comments, offhand remarks where Kris creates a simple, perfect future for them, and Adam’s mind fills in all the blanks, his imagination creating an entire world, an entire life. It’s like a castle on a cloud, and no matter how fast Adam runs, no matter how high he jumps, it remains elusive, always out of his reach.

He lives in these moments. The hours and days and months in between are meaningless. He drifts through the rest of his life like a ghost, and thinks, if this is his purgatory, it really isn’t so bad.

*************************************  
They meet in New York, when Adam has a concert and Kris is there for a week working on a song, his first time producing someone else's work.

Adam goes to a club for an hour, antsy, drumming his fingers against his glass. He schmoozes with some fans, makes small talk with the club owner, but time can't go fast enough. As soon as he can, he meets Kris in Queens, in a tiny apartment Kris has sublet for the week in Astoria.

Kris opens the door with a smile, talking about Chinese delivery and asking about Adam's concert, but Adam has Kris's pants off before the door even closes behind them.

******************************************  
Adam doesn’t ever feel guilty. Even before the divorce, he felt bad, sure, bad that people would be hurt, and that Kris would be one of the people hurt no matter what happened. But he never felt guilty, because that implied regret. And he never regretted what they had. He’d look back at their time in the mansion and curse himself for not trying anything sooner, jealous of all the time his past self had with Kris, all those long, uninterrupted nights.

He asks Kris about it sometimes, and Kris responds with a slow, lazy smile. “Naw, I don’t think I could have resisted,” he says “but it’s better this way, don’t you think? We got to know each other, and it was me who started things. You don’t have to feel guilty about anything.”

“You have too high an opinion of me,” Adam says with a laugh. “I wasn’t trying to be noble, I just couldn’t believe you…I didn’t let myself believe I had a shot. I’m not nearly as good a person as you think I am.”

Kris just shakes his head. “That’s not true,” he says, voice low and sincere. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

“You only think that because you love me,” Adam responds, easily, and it feels so good to say it out loud, unafraid, this complete confidence in Kris’s feelings. “You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Kris mumbles sleepily, pulling Adam closer. “Everyone loves you. And if they don’t, it’s only cause they haven’t met you yet.”

**********************************  
They meet in Montana, in a cabin the woods. There’s not a neighbor for miles, and the backyard faces a forest. It looks magical, snow all around, a fireplace in the living room and bedroom, and a hot tub out back. Lane has managed to get them an entire week together, and she’s stocked the place personally, with everything they could need. Food, wine, dvds, bubble bath, even lube. Adam makes a mental note to give her a raise.

The pasta is almost ready, the wine is open and the candles are lit by the time Kris arrives. It’s their two year anniversary, at least the way they count it, and Adam wanted it to be special.

There’s something on Kris’s face, as soon as he walks through the door. Adam isn’t sure what it is, but Kris looks determined, forceful. He doesn’t bother with hello’s, just shrugs off his jacket, kicking the door closed behind him. He grabs Adam, pulls him down for a rough kiss, and then sinks to his knees. Before Adam can speak, Kris has pulled his belt off in one swift motion, his zipper open and his cock out, already half-hard. He takes Adam in his mouth in one easy swallow and _Oh_. It had taken months and months for Adam to teach Kris to do this, months of practicing and breathing techniques and holding back with excruciating restraint when everything in him wanted to push forward because it would feel so _good_. But it was all worth it, and in just a few moments his knees are shaking with it, and he’s coming, Kris swallowing all around him.

Adam sinks to the floor and Kris collapses on top of him, waiting for his breathing to even.

“I made dinner,” Adam says, still weak, his hand in Kris’s hair, stroking his scalp softly.

“Missed you,” Kris replies, reaching up to kiss him hard and hungrily.

They spend the week like newlyweds, doing nothing but eat and sleep and make love. They go for long walks in the woods, Kris telling Adam stories about how he used to go deer hunting with his dad when he was little. When Adam looks like he’s about to cry, Kris swears up and down that he never killed a deer.

“I promise,” Kris says, reaching out for Adam’s hand, which he’d pulled away sharply. “I used to fall asleep in the trees!”

Adam still looks dubious, but gets distracted by a bunny hopping by. _An actual bunny!_ White and furry and everything. Adam wants to catch it and take it home with him, and Kris decides then and there to never tell him the stories of his childhood camping trips and what they would eat for dinner.

Their last night there is bittersweet, as it always is, but there’s something more to it this time. They had a taste of what it was like to have more than a few stolen hours. The longer they spend together, the harder it is to say goodbye.

The hot tub is so warm, and the night air so cold, that it creates a foggy mist all around them. They make out, long, slow, lazy kisses, and Kris climbs on top of Adam, something that had taken him a while to get used to, taking control like that. Adam loved it, he could watch Kris’s face fall apart while his hands were free to touch him everywhere.

That night, it's almost too much. Kris’s eyes are closed, his neck stretched long and tight, the black sky and thousands of stars everywhere behind him framing his beautiful face like a picture. It's unreal, overwhelming. Adam wants to reach up and lick Kris’s neck, bite his jaw, run his thumbs over his eyes and lips, wants to watch him like this forever.

Instead, he turns his head to the side, where Kris’s hands grip the edge of the tub, his fingers wrinkled from the water, tightly stretched, holding on. He makes himself look at them, to make this real, to remember, it was happening, it was real, which meant that soon it would end.

***********************************  
Sometimes Kris’s friends call Adam. Kris has so many friends back home, so many people who claim to know and love him, so it surprised Adam a little that the ones who knew about them was such a small group. It was a list that was less reflective of who Kris loved the most and more of who Kris thought will love _him_ no matter what. That’s how Adam sees it anyway.

Charles would call him a lot, after the divorce. Kris was a mess. The guilt and obligation…he made it his duty to make sure Katy was all right. And she was angry and hurt, understandably, sure, but Kris kept going back, no matter how many hateful things she said. Adam knew though, Kris needed it. It was just who he was. He needed to feel the anger and hurt, he needed to take it on for himself. It was his penance.

When Charles would call, worried, wanting Adam to do something, he’d have to bite his tongue from talking about religious guilt. That probably wasn’t the problem, he knew. Kris was just…Kris. He’d made vows, he broke them. God knows he had waited forever to break them, had tried to resist in every way possible for as long as possible. But he’d hurt someone he loved, and he needed to punish himself for it.

It had passed. Katy had moved on, and Adam could feel Kris’s relief, like a physical weight had been lifted from him. Charles would still call Adam every once in a while, just to check in, and Adam liked it. He liked being part of Kris’s world, even if it was long-distance. He tried not to push for more.

Because he knows why, knows exactly what Kris fears, and why he’s holding back. And the worst part, the part that makes his heart hurt, hurt like a physical pain, is that Kris is right. They don’t talk about it a lot, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, when their voices have grown hoarse from talking about everything and nothing, Kris will whisper his worries into Adam’s chest, Adam’s hands soft and soothing on his back, trying to reassure him about something they both know will happen anyway.

“I’ll never be able to go back,” Kris’s voice is so small, and his body, curled up tight into Adam, feels just as tiny. “Everyone there, they’ll hate me, they’ll know I was a liar, this whole time.”

And Adam wants to tell him it isn’t true, that people will get over it, and the ones that matter the most won’t care. He wants to tell him that Kris can come to LA, and leave all those people behind, and it won’t matter. But he knows that’s a lie, knows Kris isn’t built that way. He knows exactly how much Kris stands to lose, how much he will lose. So he just pulls Kris tighter in a reassuring embrace, desperately trying to hide his own panic and the telltale beating of his heart.

******************************************  
They meet in New Orleans, in the middle of Mardi Gras. Adam is surprised to find the thrill of danger, of being someplace they could actually get caught, drives Kris wild.

Their hotel room in the French Quarter has a balcony, and they watch the debauchery of the parade with a bucketful of beads to throw. Adam is dressed in a 1920’s costume, dapper and so tall in a three piece suit, with his hair slicked to the side, a mask drawn over his eyes in sliver paint. He was happily surprised when Kris jumped at his suggestion of dressing in drag. He looks unreal, in a flapper dress, with a short brown bob wig, a cat-eye mask covering his eyes. He even let Adam do his makeup, the whole nine yards. It was never really Adam’s kink, just something he’d do for fun, but he’s realized Kris _everything_ is his kink.

They don’t spend much time at the parade. Too many cameras and videos and what people might not be able to recognize in person may still show up in pictures later. When Kris whispers in Adam’s ear that he didn’t put any underwear on with his stockings and garter, Adam nearly picks him up and throws him over his shoulder in his rush to get back to the hotel.

They sit on the balcony, watching the revelers, Kris in Adam’s lap, facing the street. They’re high up enough that no one can see Kris slowly moving, up and down on Adam’s lap, but the thrill of the possibility gets them both off. Kris’s dress up and around his waist and the brush of his stockings against Adam’s legs where his pants are pulled down to his ankles, and Adam thinks, never in a million years could he have imagined this, how fucking perfect they are together in every single way.

********************************************  
Sometimes Kris cries, just before they say goodbye. In Five Star suites, and nameless seedy motels, he buries his head in Adam’s chest, hiding his face, his arms underneath Adam’s jacket, wrapped tight around him. He’s silent, but Adam can feel him shaking, and he whispers soothing words to calm him down, big palms softly rubbing his back.

Kris turns his head to the side, tries to fake a laugh through his tears, to make this less than what it is.

“I’m not usually like this,” his words vibrate against Adam’s chest. “I’m not a crier, really. Don’t want you to think you’re getting an emotional basket case for a boyfriend.”

But Adam just leans down to kiss him, long and sweet, oblivious to his wet, messy face, holding him tight for one last moment before pushing Kris away.

Still, no matter how sweet the kiss is, no matter the words of love and promises, that’s what he remembers, what he takes with him, what he thinks of lying in bed on sleepless nights, _him pushing Kris away._

***********************************************  
They meet in Canada, in a province Adam can’t pronounce, in the middle of the summer. It’s probably the most beautiful place Adam has ever seen, old and quaint, on a river with mountains in the background. Kris gets a bad cold on their second day, though, and Adam spends the rest of their time feeding him chicken soup and Nyquil. He gives up trying not to catch it himself after an hour, and crawls into bed with Kris, just to hold him for a while.

“Remember, when I got sick on tour,” Kris’s voice is hoarse and his eyes are closed, but he’s smiling at the memory. “And you took care of me? Nobody else would come near me.”

“It was all part of my plan,” Adam responds, stroking the hair back from his warm forehead and pressing a soft kiss at his temple. “The Nightingale Effect. I knew after that, you’d be mine.”

“I was already yours,” Kris mumbles sleepily, and they both know it’s true.

***************************************************  
Adam has the patience of a saint, or so some of his friends tell him. He tells more people than Kris does, the ones he trusts completely, but not nearly as many as he’d like to tell. Most of his friends are optimistically cautious; they like Kris a lot, but they’re fiercely protective of Adam, and don’t want to see him hurt.

Others are just cynical, advising him against it.

From the start, they told him, “It’ll never work out.” That’s what they said, right from the beginning.

“He’s too repressed, he’ll let you give him a blowjob, but try and get something in return and watch how quick he tells you he’s not into ‘that gay shit.’”

He never told them they had been wrong.

“He’ll never leave his wife. Trust me, I’ve been with closet cases before, he’ll never divorce her.”

He was never smug about that, even when the tabloid covers hit.

And now, when they say Kris will never come out, that they’ll always be in hiding, and Adam will always be a secret, and doesn’t he know he deserves better, and more than this? It’s easy to ignore them.

He knows, deep down, they’re only saying it because they don’t know. They’ve never had someone like Kris, who exceeds, who _demolishes_ all expectations. So he can wait, patiently.

He has his moments though. Driving along nameless highways, nothing but trees and road everywhere, after only a few hours together, knowing they won’t be seeing each other for months. Kris is silent next to him, as though he knows a storm is brewing inside Adam, and nothing he can say, nothing he _will_ say will help. Adam wants to scream, to punch something, to pull over and kiss Kris everywhere until he realizes it’s worth it, that it’s time, that Adam can’t take any more.

“When? When?” he mutters, not realizing he’s said the words out loud until Kris reaches over and takes his hand.

He doesn’t turn his head towards Adam, just keeps looking out the window, but he whispers “Soon. I promise, soon.”

Hearing Kris’s voice break, something inside Adam crumbles. He pulls the car over and takes Kris in his arms, both of them shaking, holding him tight, possessive.

He misses his flight, and Lane bitches him out for almost getting spotted at the airport, and he’s miserable and snapping at everyone for the next week.

So, he has to admit, he has his moments.

***************************************  
They meet in California, after two months apart.

Adam had thrown a small dinner party, that left him drained. He loves entertaining, but these days the effort it takes to appear happy, or even just content, leaves him wiped.

The tv is on mute; he likes the light of it when he’s alone in the house, it’s comforting somehow. He’s lying on couch, drifting a little, when the doorbell rings. It must be one of his guests having forgotten something, or maybe realizing they had too much to drink and needed a cab after all.

When he opens the door and sees Kris, a duffel bag in hand, he can’t move. His mouth is probably hanging open, he realizes after a moment, and Kris is still standing there.

“Can I…” Kris finally speaks. “Can I come in?”

Adam pulls him in by the arm, quickly shutting the door.

“What are you…what..?” he finishes, dumbstruck.

“I should have called, I know.” Kris says, rubbing his tired eyes. “But I thought…if I called, and you said we should wait, figure out a plan, that I’d…that I might chicken out and I just needed…I really needed to see you.”

“You’re here.” Adam says, moving closer. “You’re really here?”

“Yeah,” Kris reaches his arms up towards Adam, palms on either side of Adam’s face, thumbs rubbing his temples. “I’m really here.”

Adam pulls him in quick, tight, still disbelieving.

“I don’t understand what happened,” he says into Kris’s hair. “Did something happen, are you okay?”

He pulls away just enough to look into Kris’s face.

Kris shakes his head, his expression pained. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion.

“I told my parents. I told…I told everybody.”

“Oh, baby,” Adam says, taking his hands and leading him to the couch. “Are you okay? Did they take it okay?”

Kris shrugs heavily. “They’re…processing.”

Adam gives him a questioning look, so Kris continues. “Which means they’re praying.”

“Oh,” Adam says, trying to keep his voice even.

“For guidance,” Kris adds quickly. “This is how we deal with things. I think…I think they were more disappointed in me for breaking my vows than anything else.”

“Oh Kris,” Adam sighs. Of course he told them everything. He couldn’t spare himself even a tiny bit of pain.

“I didn’t tell them it was with you, Katy doesn't even know that," Kris is speaking so fast, as though he’s afraid of Adam’s reaction, Adam realizes. Adam had prepared for all this, in his mind at least. For when Kris would need him to be the most supportive, for when Kris would feel like he had no one else in the world to count on, even if it wasn’t true. He leans over and kisses Kris softly, holds his head in his hands and kisses him again.

“It’s okay if you want to, Kris,” he says, pulling away. “I’m not ashamed of anything we did.”

Kris nods, shakily. “I think they’ll come around. But, I had to get out of there. I needed to see you so bad, I hope this is okay.”

Adam looks around the messy room, glasses and dishes strewn everywhere. “I wish I’d known you were coming.”

Kris pulls his hands away and jumps up, “I should have asked, I’m sorry. I just assumed I could show up and, that was stupid of me, I—"

Adam rises to meet him, taking Kris’s hands in his own again. “I only meant I would have cleaned up. But you might as well get used to it, I’m pretty messy so if you want our home to be spotless it’s gonna be up to you.”

Kris nods, still a little shaky but smiling. “I didn’t bring much stuff, just enough for a few days. I figured, I could go back later in the week and get the rest of my stuff. Zorro, he hates planes, and sometimes they make you put dogs in with the luggage and I just can’t do that, so Charles is gonna help me pack up a truck and I’ll drive back with them—”

“No,” Adam cuts him off quickly.

Kris looks at him confused. “I..don’t have that much stuff, I promise I won’t mess with the décor,” he smiles, uncertain.

“No,” Adam says softly, “I mean, I’m coming with you. We’ll do it together.”

“You’re gonna come with me to Arkansas?” Kris asks.

Adam nods, feeling something in his chest tighten. “I’m not letting you go through that alone.”

Kris’s face finally breaks, and he buries it in Adam’s chest. Adam just pulls him closer, holding him tight, crying with him. Tears of relief and joy and release, and they’re both shaking and laughing a little too.

And this time, Adam doesn’t have to let go.


End file.
